Petrushka
by Only in a Dancing God
Summary: Ivan was a puppet who lived in a shop in Moscow. He was in love with a dancing doll named Yao, but it was unrequited. Toris was a boy who could see these things. No one believed him.


_**I felt very bad about making Ivan the antagonist of my last story. He's one of my favorite characters actually and I've wanted to write a fanfiction about him for a very long time. This story is my version of one of my favorite ballets, Petrushka by Stravinsky, narrated by Lithuania. The only pairing is one sided RussiaxChina. Please let me know what you think!**_

_**-Only in a Dancing God**_

* * *

Something that not everyone knows is that reality is not rigid. It moves fluidly, warping and melding with our organic thoughts and ideas. So what you perceive may or may not be true. What I perceive may or may not be true. Just because someone pulls the strings doesn't mean they're not as real as you. Maybe there's someone out there pulling your strings too. But I digress.

This tale is about Ivan, a Petrushka-a traditional Russian puppet. He had a too big nose, violet eyes, and a stupid little red outfit that was supposed to make him look cheerful. It didn't, which is-I assume-the reason no one bought him.

Memory is a hazy, indefinable thing that makes knowing how long Ivan had been in the store difficult. He felt as deeply as anyone else, or at least I think so. I believe he was aware. He saw colors, shapes; he felt shifts in texture and temperature. So on and so forth.

For as long as I can remember, which I assume is a long time, he was in love, deep passionate love, with Yao. Yao was the dancing puppet who sat across from him in the store. Yao was very beautiful. It was an unrequited emotion as far as I could tell. Why would it be returned? Yao was an elegant dancer, with amber eyes and long ebony hair, on the opposite end of the spectrum from Ivan.

His mortal enemy was Alfred, an idiotic super hero puppet whose dopey grin was more than repelling. Their creator was a very poor man, simply because the puppets and dolls he created are not the happy, unrealistic things you see lining the windows of other stores. They were more than humanoid. They were mirrors of reality.

Yao was the first and most beautiful of their lord's creations. Ivan was the most flawed. Supposedly this is because Ivan represented Russia and all of her failures and successes, or at least that's the pitch every potential customer heard. They lived in a specialty doll shop in Moscow. Yao, Alfred, and Ivan performed in a show simply because their creator felt they showcased his talents most.

The show was basically just the three of them doing what they were designed to do. Yao danced, Alfred flew, and Ivan smiled-falsely- and pranced about the stage. Ivan liked the show because he got to see Yao in one of the few moments he looked truly happy. Joyous even. It made Ivan's smile less forced.

Right now, the store is closed. It is very late at night. My brothers and I have always been too poor to afford a doll or puppet, but we liked to look into the window and just stare. Ivan was always my favorite even though he scared Raivis, Eduard, and I. It was the unmistakable cruelty in his purple glass orbs that frightened me. If I had to choose another favorite, it would be Natalia, a pretty girl doll whose attractiveness was always juxtaposed with the small glinting knife she carried.

Ack! See, I always go off on tangents. Natalia is irrelevant right now. All you need to know of her for the purposes of this tale is that she loved Ivan, but that Ivan considered her a younger sister. Ivan also had an older sister, but she was bought a long time ago. Personally I always thought she was a rather unintelligent looking doll and that her feminine attributes were too pronounced. But she and Ivan truly cared for each other and when she was bought, something snapped inside Ivan.

But he's gone now. And from what I can tell, it was murder. But that murder could have been suicide, depending on your vantage point. Regardless, I think know what happened, but it seems too fantastic a thing for reality as we know it. I explained it to my brothers and they looked at me concerned. When we were younger, my stories weren't concerning. They were the imaginative tales of a child. But I am rambling again.

Anyways, it started early this morning. It was a nauseatingly cold morning today, and the sun was poking its lazy head through the ashen clouds. I had awoken before my brothers and I decided to take a walk. Unconsciously, my thinly clad feet found their way to the front of the store. The first show of the day was about to begin and a small crowd of street children, tourists, curious passersby, and myself were all pressed to the glass, huddling for warmth as a light snow began to fall.

Yao pirouetted onto the little velvet clad stage, breathtaking as always. He made a little movement somewhere between a bow and a curtsy then did a grand jeté to the other side, swanlike and majestic. Next was Alfred, his brightly colored costume gaining cheers and grins from the littler ones in the audience. I grimaced. That doll was so…stupid looking, the kind of stupid that oft brings cruelty.

Lastly entered Ivan, his arrival silencing the mob. He was frightening even as his eyes were filled with emotion for Yao. He skipped to center stage and bowed deeply, comically falling down. No one laughed.

The show was better than ever before. Yao spun and swayed daintily to the music, Alfred rescued Yao from a small dragon puppet, Ivan tripped over air and yet still no one laughed. When it was over, I was so moved that I decided to do something I'd never been brave enough to do before: enter the enigmatic store.

It was warmer inside, yet not warm. The snow was falling in little flurries now and it was very beautiful. The dark wood floors reflected the reflections of light in the dolls' glass eyes. Life imitating art. The shopkeeper was mysteriously nowhere to be seen. Alfred was sitting in a luxurious little case made to look like a skyscraper. Ivan's small hut was shambles comparatively. Yao was sitting in a borderline flirtatious pose beside Alfred. I'd never seen Ivan look so hurt…or so angry.

Then one of two things happened. Either humans are not the only conscious beings or my eyes deceived me grievously. I swear on all that is holy that the store came to life in that moment. I'd always thought it did, but to see it…

Yao laughed liltingly and batted his long eyelashes at Alfred. Ivan shied away from Natalia, who was chanting evilly and brandishing her knife lovingly. His purple eyes darted to Yao and he relaxed instantly. He stood and his jointed limbs stiffly ambled over to the edge of the shelf. He jumped and crumpled to the floor, but arose unharmed. He walked methodically to the other side of the store and began to climb up the shelves, approaching Alfred's perch.

Meanwhile, Alfred and Yao were growing more and more friendly. That is until Alfred caught sight of Ivan, hopelessly climbing up the shelves and Natalia close on his heels. His cheerful blue eyes became gray steel. The hatred in them was undeniable. At last, Ivan reached the top shelf where Alfred had just stood, shoving Yao aside. The lithe dancer looked hurt for a moment before he saw the cause of Alfred's fury. He frowned ungraciously at the larger doll and scoffed. Ivan looked hurt but stumbled forward anyways and presented the Asian puppet with a flower. Alfred swooped down and threw it to the floor. Ivan snarled at the supposed hero, but was pushed onto a lower shelf.

Natalia reached Alfred and had her knife in his shoulder in a second. Alfred just laughed and pushed Natalia out of his way. She stumbled backwards and fell, landing on the floor. Her neck was broken and she refused to stir when Ivan jumped down and shook her. He howled inhumanly and his eyes flashed a furious red.

Alfred pulled the little knife out of his arm and flew down to Ivan's side. Ivan looked pleadingly up at Yao, but Yao simply looked down at his nails. Something died inside of Ivan in that instant, because although Alfred had the knife, Ivan would have been strong enough to fight back. Instead, he simply ran. He was the only one to notice me and as Alfred closed in, brandishing the knife, he made eye contact with me.

In that instant, every emotion Ivan was feeling, I felt. Then it was over. Alfred was stabbing him again and again. He returned to his shelf triumphantly as Yao looked semi-sympathetically at Ivan's corpse. Neither noticed me as I crept to where Ivan lay. Trembling, I prodded it. He was dead.

I lifted the body and carried it home. He was heavy. I buried him under a sunflower that was unseasonably in bloom. I ran inside to tell my family. When they skeptically returned with me, the evidence was gone. The sunflower was dead and the ground unmarred. I dragged them to town, where in front of the store, there was a riot.

A window was broken. Natalia's corpse was still there, neck broken. Yao was being strangled by Alfred and the other dolls except for the missing Ivan were huddled in a corner. But there was no movement. Someone started talking about promotional stunts and everyone calmed down until the owner came-an old man with tears in his eyes.

"My store!" he cried. "What has happened to my store?" he sobbed. Everyone looked accusingly at each other. Voices were raised. My brothers glared at me. They thought I had done it! That brings us to now. I am standing outside with my family and-

Oh! Do you see it? Look, up on the roof, its Ivan's spirit. He's laughing at us as we stand here, confused. Even if you cannot see him, I can tell from the owner's eyes he sees Ivan too. And that's all the proof I'll ever need.


End file.
